by Kay Hooper
“Why not?” Kane demanded fiercely.
“Because your friend with Interpol wants to arrest him,” she replied calmly, still working his fingers loose. “And because I love you, and I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail.”
Kane looked at her for a moment, then dropped Simon onto the floor. He glanced down at the villain who seemed unable to do anything except cough and gasp, then returned his wistful gaze to Tyler.
“Can’t I break at least one of his arms, Ty?”
“No, but you can tie his wrists together.” She looked down at Simon thoughtfully. “Tightly.”
Kane’s chuckle started deep in his chest, emerging in a sound of utter delight. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I love you,” he said huskily. And added, “What’s that poking my stomach?”
“The gun,” she answered cheerfully.
He kissed her again. “Oh. Find a piece of rope or something, will you, baby?”
Simon didn’t even struggle.
chapter twelve
“H E WAS A good boy when he was small,” Elizabeth Montegro said sadly. “But . . . unaffectionate. Cold. I could never get close to him. After his father died and I married Stefano, Simon chose to spend most of the year in a boarding school. Then he grew up and . . . I’d barely seen him in years when he married Erica and they moved in here. It was only a few months later that I realized he was still cold. And that he was cruel, as well.”
They were in the sitting room, all tired after the long day behind them. Elizabeth, Tyler and Kane. Erica was in bed and under a doctor’s care, though her hysterics had worn themselves out hours before. Officers from Interpol had arrived late in the afternoon and had taken Simon away; two of them were still down in the cellar making an inventory of the valuables.
Vincente’s list had been found in one of the jewel boxes and, along with his journal, had provided the officers with the story behind Simon’s activities on the black market. The contessa knew now, and though she grieved, she was hardly surprised.
Tyler stirred slightly as she sat close behind Kane on the low sofa. She was exhausted, but she wanted all the loose ends tied up. “You let them stay here because of Erica, didn’t you?” she asked the old lady gently.
Elizabeth nodded. “By the time they moved in with me, I’d already heard she . . . she was known to chase after other men. But once they were living here, I realized that Simon was behind that. He used her, had her get information from other men. Then he used that information. I’m sure there were stock tips and advance warning of business mergers and the like. Perhaps even blackmail. I thought—I hoped—I could protect her, at least a little.”
“Why did Erica stay with him?” Tyler asked. “Love?”
“She wouldn’t confide in me. But I thought that was her reason. She does love him, I think, but . . . I was blind to what was really happening. The doctor told me this afternoon that she’d been using drugs. Simon was giving them to her, I’m sure.”
Quietly Kane said, “Don’t blame yourself, Elizabeth.”
The contessa managed to smile at him.
Tyler decided it was time to change the subject. “Elizabeth, I remember you said that Stefano had known about the hidden valuables. But if he didn’t know where they were hidden . . .”
“He didn’t.” She seemed to welcome the change. “Vincente was something of a tartar, according to Stefano, and he was very secretive. I’m sure he intended to tell his son about the existence of the room, but he died before he could. He’d written to Stefano and said only that the family valuables were hidden on the grounds of Villa Rosa. When Stefano returned here, his father was in a coma. The entire area had been bombed heavily, and a number of outbuildings here had been destroyed. Stefano assumed the valuables had been lost.”
“Why didn’t he read his father’s journals?” Kane asked.
“He couldn’t find them at first. The old devil—” She smiled quickly, honestly amused. “His description of his father. Vincente had hidden them away. Stefano found them years later when he was searching for something else; they were in a trunk in the attic along with other journals. He took one look at the jumble of half a dozen languages, and just put all the journals in the library.”
Tyler looked at Kane. “Simple enough.”
“Once you have the answers,” he agreed. “Then Simon read the journals a few years ago. And found the valuables. All those art objects, virtually untraceable because they’d been missing since the war years. Most of the records had been destroyed; he knew that. As long as he disposed of them gradually and cautiously, he stood to make a fortune.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said suddenly. When they looked at her, she smiled gently. “Someone had to stop Simon and I—I didn’t have the strength. I’m grateful the two of you did. Erica will be all right; I’ll see to that. She’ll get the help she needs.”
“You’ll be able to renovate the villa,” Tyler said with an answering smile. “The majority of those things in the cellar are yours, Elizabeth. You’ll have private collectors and museums beating a path to your door.”
“The way the two of you did?” She laughed in genuine pleasure at their startled looks.
“You knew?” Tyler said blankly.
“That you were searching for something specific here? Yes, my dear, I knew. After I talked to Keith Dutton, I called a few of the friends I had made over the past few years—friends involved in historical preservation. They knew of both of you.”
Kane winced. “Then I’m surprised you invited us here.”
“On the contrary. I was told in no uncertain terms that you were scrupulously honest people.” Elizabeth’s green eyes were twinkling. “In addition to being fascinating to observe. I was told to expect fireworks of one kind or another.”
Tyler laughed a little. “Lightning rods, both of us. But thank you for trusting us, Elizabeth.”
“I am curious,” the contessa admitted. “What brought you here?”
Kane and Tyler exchanged looks, both of them remembering the final bit of helpful information that silly Melina had provided in her diary; Tyler had discovered it just a few hours before.
Papa is so angry! That ugly cup he lent the church in Florence has come up missing. He has the other one, the one with the odd mark on its bottom, but he says it’s worthless now. I think it’s an ugly thing anyway, but he says Alexander was poisoned with one of them and that makes the pair valuable. And they were a gift to the family. . . .
Tyler leaned forward to open the flight bag on the floor by the sofa. Elizabeth, who had hardly noticed they’d come into the room with it, watched now as a heavy chalice was placed on the coffee table between them. She looked puzzled.
“This,” Tyler said. Quickly she explained how she and Kane had come into possession of the chalice, and how Drew Haviland had put them on the trail that had led to Villa Rosa and the Montegro family. Then she explained what they’d found in Melina’s diary, finishing with, “So it’s yours, Elizabeth. We haven’t had it authenticated, of course, and it’d be worth far more if we’d found the other chalice with the valuables, but Kane and I think it could be one of Alexander’s. I suppose the mate was sold somewhere along the way, or—” She broke off, because Elizabeth was laughing weakly.
“Are you telling me that cup is priceless?”
“It’s an antiquity,” Kane said slowly, puzzled by her reaction. “Valuable for that, and the gold content. If it’s Alexander’s, it certainly is priceless. Elizabeth—”
The contessa rose to her feet, still smiling with an odd, rueful humor. “It’s late, and we’re all tired. But before we retire, I want to show you something. Kane, please bring the cup.”
He obeyed, and they followed the contessa up to the second floor and to her suite of rooms. They were baffled, even more so when they stood in her sitting room and she faced them with a smile.
“Look around.”
They did, still puzzled. It was a warm room, decorated in bright
colors and modern furnishings. Sturdy shelves held books and framed photos and knickknacks; there were a few landscapes on the walls; wildflowers from the villa’s garden were arranged in two chipped porcelain vases.
Elizabeth laughed softly at their bewilderment. “I don’t feel so bad now,” she said dryly. “If you two experts missed it.” She pointed to one of the bookshelves silently.
Tyler saw it then, and gasped. It stood in the center of one of the shelves, books leaning against it on either side, and since no light fell directly on it, there was no way of guessing that it was made of solid gold.
Kane set their chalice down on a table near one of the chairs and went to lift the second one from its shelf. He turned it in his big hands for a moment, then upended it and studied the bottom of the pedestal base. Slowly his mouth curved. He carried the cup back to Tyler and silently showed her the faint but visible mark pressed into the base.
She touched the cool metal softly, thinking of a dying king trying to leave evidence of possible treachery. “It’s Alexander’s,” she murmured, and she felt no doubt of that.
“Alexander’s,” Kane agreed. He placed the chalice beside its mate on the table.
Elizabeth shook her head ruefully. “I suppose I assumed it was made of brass. I never lifted it. It’s been on that shelf as long as I can remember. How absurd . . .”
It was absurd, and Tyler started to laugh. Kane and Elizabeth both joined in, all of them thinking about a priceless chalice squatting peacefully on a shelf for years, a missing piece of history.
“Take it,” Elizabeth said softly when their laughter had finally died. “Take them both. If the two of you hadn’t come here . . . I owe you so much. Take the cups, please.”
It was an incredibly generous offer. Kane looked at Tyler, then put his arm around her as she smiled up at him. He returned his gaze to the contessa. “Thank you, Elizabeth, but we can’t. We brought them together—we won’t be responsible for separating them again.”
“I don’t understand.”
Quietly Tyler said, “If the cups were ours, Kane and I would be . . . honorbound to turn them over to our respective employers. Two men who are bitter rivals. The chalices deserve better than that.” She smiled suddenly. “However, we do know of a man who would give them both a good home. And give you a good price for them.”
HALF AN HOUR later as they got ready for bed in their room, Tyler said sleepily, “I don’t know about you, but I’m in hock with my expense account. I’ll have to pay Robert back. It’s a good thing my bank account’s healthy. I hate to think what he’s going to say about losing the chalice.”
Kane grinned a little. “I’m more interested in hearing what both of them say when they find out about us. Maybe we should accept Elizabeth’s invitation to stay here for a few weeks, at least until they cool down.”
“I’d like to stay here for a while,” Tyler agreed, crawling into bed. “And we can help Elizabeth, run interference for her when the collectors and museums start calling.”
Sliding into bed beside her, Kane said conversationally, “Just how many of these sexy nightgowns do you have?”
Tyler smiled up at him, her arms lifting to wreathe around his neck. “A few. I was hoping you wouldn’t be too tired to take this one off me.”
“Aren’t you tired?” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
“Not that tired.”
“Good,” Kane said huskily, and took the nightgown off.
KANE STOOD ON the balcony of their hotel room and gazed out over the city of Venice. After spending three weeks at the villa, they had returned here a few days ago; they both loved the city and had wanted this time to explore—and to be with each other. Kane found himself smiling as he remembered these last weeks, and wondered how he had ever survived without Tyler in his life and his bed.
Once they had each gotten over the fear of being thought too possessive by the other, everything had been just fine. In three years of battles they had learned to know each other with a depth and certainty that few lovers ever achieve, and with the barriers between them gone their love was absolute. Not peaceful, however; since they shared intense passions—about everything including each other—the fights had been as glorious as the loving.
And Kane knew it would always be that way. It wouldn’t suit some people, but it suited them perfectly. They had promised each other that they’d never go to bed angry—which was something that seemed utterly impossible anyway—and that left them free to enjoy their fights.
“Are you still sulking?” she called out sweetly, and Kane grinned to himself as he turned to go back into their room.
Fights, indeed.
“Of course I’m not sulking,” he told her as he came inside. “It’s undignified.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said with a nod. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, bright-eyed and beautiful, and only wearing one of his shirts. “Besides, I said I was sorry.”
Kane sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her. “I heard you.”
“I wasn’t sure,” she murmured. “You were yelling so loudly I thought you might not have heard me.”
He laughed despite himself. “Damn it, Ty, next time will you just tell me before you go haring off?”
“Look, Drew was leaving Italy and wanted to talk to one of us, and you were gone off on some mysterious errand you wouldn’t tell me about—”
“—I came back to find you gone, not even a note—”
“—and I wasn’t away more than an hour—”
“—scared the hell out of me—”
“—you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”
They both stopped and stared at each other.
“I’m sorry,” she said meekly.
Kane, knowing only too well that his Tyler was about as meek as a star going nova, burst out laughing. “Sure you are.”
Her amber eyes were dancing. “Cross my heart. I didn’t mean to worry you, really. Forgive me?”
“Yes, damn it,” he growled, and leaned over to kiss her.
“Good.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “Now I can tell you what Drew said.”
“He has the chalices?”
“Yes, he bought them. But that isn’t it. He’d heard about Sayers and Phillips firing us, and then about them meeting by chance in Westminster and screaming at each other.”
“How’d he hear that?” Kane asked curiously.
Tyler giggled. “It made the papers. Apparently they stood there toe-to-toe accusing each other of base treachery at the top of their voices, and a very confused reporter who happened to be there took notes. He wrote an article.”
“God help the reporter,” Kane murmured.
“I know. Anyway, Drew wants to hire us.”
Kane stared at her. “He what?”
She nodded. “He says it’s more fun to watch us than to do it himself. A funny little man in Calcutta sent him a message about a jade bull, and—”
“No,” Kane said.
Her eyes were dancing again, but her voice remained solemn. “It sounds really fascinating.”
“We’re going to be busy,” Kane said firmly.
“Doing what?”
“Making a baby. The winters in Montana are long and cold; we’ll be spending a lot of time in bed.”
Her laughter vanished, and she looked at him gravely. Her disappointment at learning that she wasn’t pregnant had surprised her; until then she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to carry Kane’s child inside her.
He kissed her a bit roughly. “Damn it, look what you made me do,” he muttered. “I was going to propose tonight in a gondola.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small black velvet case. Inside was a beautiful diamond solitaire.
“Kane . . .”
He slipped the ring gently on her finger, then held her hand against his cheek and gazed at her with warm, inexpressibly tender eyes. “You’re a beautiful, maddening, vile-tempered woman, Tyler St. James, and I can
’t live without you. Marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.” She went into his arms, her face glowing. “I love you, Kane.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
A LONGTIME later, the afternoon sun shone through the open balcony doors and onto a tumbled bed where two lovers lay in each other’s arms, temporarily sated.
“Can you ride a horse?” he murmured drowsily.
She yawned and rubbed her cheek contentedly against his broad chest. “I can ride a camel,” she reminded. “There can’t be that much difference.”
He chuckled, wondering what a horse would have to say about that vague statement. He rubbed his chin against her soft hair. Beautiful, wonderful Tyler. He’d have his hands full for the rest of his life, and he was looking forward to every second of it.
Drifting slightly, he was barely aware of saying, “A jade bull?”
“Mmm. Stolen from a temple, supposedly.”
“In Calcutta?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Odd.”
“Yes, it is.” Tyler smiled secretly and cuddled closer to his warm, muscled body. So what if their route to Montana took them east instead of west; the world was round, after all.
They’d get home eventually.
author’s note
THE FACTS CONCERNING Alexander the Great’s life and death are accurate. I have speculated that his death, believed to be caused by malaria, might instead have been due to poison; however, that is pure speculation on my part.
The two golden chalices exist only in my imagination, and in the pages of this book.
